Only in hindsight will the magnitude of what Newcastle has delivered over the past fortnight of Rugby World Cup mania become clear.

The hangovers will take some time to subside, for it has been one hell of a party.

The tournament’s sporting and cultural jamboree still feels normal as we swirl in its cycle – three magnificent matches gracing St James’ Park inside eight amazing days. But it is anything but normal. Decades from now people will talk of it, relive it and cherish the memories.

It has restored joy to Newcastle United’s footballing cathedral but, tempting as it may seem to use Rugby World Cup’s success as a stick with which to beat the faltering Magpies, engaging in such pettiness would do an injustice to what has been an unmitigated force for good.

The foresight and unity of the City Council, football club and others in making it happen deserves hearty acknowledgement.

Not only for the conception but the delivery of it – the NewcastleGateshead Initiative estimating £43million worth of economic impact for the region and reporting 99% hotel occupancy.

The sport, the stadium and the city have won converts from the Antipodes, Africa, the Pacific islands and beyond, not to mention our next-door neighbours from Scotland.

Newcastle’s fanzone was maxed out at its 10,000 capacity as rugby pilgrims were drawn to glorify the oval ball, and the five competing teams delivered their end of the bargain.

From the moment they got here South Africa were wowed by everything Newcastle-Gateshead had to offer. The Rainbow Nation transported itself to Tyneside, regaining a reputation which had been shattered a fortnight earlier in defeat to Japan.

The leaping Springbok emblem became a common sight around town, and not just from their supporters as players and management made full use of the opportunity to explore a region which has left an indelible mark on their minds.

The mass influx for their 34-16 win over Scotland turned the Leazes End into a wall of green and gold, their fulsome forward pack battering the Thistles into submission.

It felt an impossible act to follow, but New Zealand and Tonga managed it.

The All Blacks’ decision to train in Darlington and base themselves in a country hotel hideaway gave the impression they were here to do their own thing and not engage with the wider community.

At each point of their stay New Zealand were eager, accessible and willing participants in everything the tournament stands for. They were world champions in every sense, coaching local kids, dazzling the region’s media and backing it up with on-field excellence.

The anticipation around the haka was multiplied by Tonga’s part in the plot, the Sea Eagles a colourful and engaging presence.

Their own pre-match ritual, the sipi-tau, was every bit as electrifying as their more widely known opponents’, and the sight of both teams performing them simultaneously was stunning.

Mighty collisions between the Pacific brothers gave the 50,985 inside the ground an unforgettable evening of mesmerising brutality, the All Blacks finding their groove during the latter stages of a 47-9 victory which marks them as a major force.

Tonga’s warrior of a captain Nili Latu will remain on Tyneside as a Newcastle Falcon following his exertions, the region’s only Premiership club having a foot in both camps for the city’s final game.

Towering forward Kane Thompson was centre stage as the Samoans performed their sivi tau war dance to awe-struck onlookers, club-mate Jon Welsh facing him in Scottish colours.

The pipers piping in the Gallowgate End laid a soundtrack befitting of the occasion, the teams following suit in a game of almost indescribable sporting chaos.

Scotland trailed, then drew, then trailed, drew and finally, to mass hysteria, led. Skipper Greig Laidlaw was a worthy match-winner, his sniping try from the base of a five-metre scrum celebrated as if it were Philippe Albert lobbing Peter Schmeichel for 5-0.

How they partied – glasses raised and tilted without time to consider whether they were half-full or half-empty. The Samoans were satisfied to have played their part, even with a 36-33 defeat. Captain Kahn Fotuali’i revelled in their return to the “islands style of rugby”, by which he meant battering anything that moved, throwing the ball around and not stopping to worry about the consequences.

From Chinatown to the Bigg Market and beyond they celebrated, Scots and Samoans swapping shirts in the street.

It was an appropriate end to an astonishing experience, aided by the legion of volunteers whose willingness to welcome made the Rugby World Cup a reality.